


Sankakkei

by TwelveMinusOne



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Blackwatch Jesse McCree, M/M, Young Genji Shimada, Young Hanzo Shimada
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-04-22
Updated: 2018-04-22
Packaged: 2019-04-26 05:51:37
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 900
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14395656
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TwelveMinusOne/pseuds/TwelveMinusOne
Summary: Genji and Hanzo are the yakuza princes of the Shimada clan. The two brothers receive intel that a target who has been interfering with their clan's business will be making an appearance at a club in Tokyo, Japan. They are set with the task of finding this man and dealing with him, though they are unaware that another organization is also interested in him.





	Sankakkei

**Author's Note:**

> I'm new at this. Please be kind!  
> These will all be very short. :)

Bodies are packed tight, some warm and flush from all the movement, others smooth and cool, glowing brightly against the dim lighting and neon strobes. It’s busy at the Tokyo nightclub, Vision, especially for a Thursday night. Though it’s to be expected when the omnic group, N15H, is performing. It’s a setting the young Shimada is completely accustomed to and one that his older brother is not. Which is why Genji thinks it’s unfair that Hanzo is the one sifting through the crowds and Genji is left to the quiet of the rooftop bar.

The techno-punk music coming from the first floor can be heard even where Genji is, muted by cement walls, five stories, and cheering concertgoers. By the time it reaches his ears, it almost sounds like some dreadful Fukuda Kiku piece. How is that even possible?? SIGH. Genji’s left to tracing the rim of his half-drunken yuzushu with one manicured finger, gazing out at the rest of the lively city. But patience was never his strong suit and it’s already been an hour and a half since he and Hanzo have arrived. He decides to send out a quick text: Have you found him yet?

Tap, tap, tap.  
Tap, tap, tap.  
Impatient knuckles lightly rap against the bar counter.

No reply in – eight minutes. UGH.

“My, what’s a pretty thing like you doin’ up here all by yourself?” A very American, very southern accent breaks the rippling quiet and has Genji’s eyes flickering to the man just three seats down. He’s wearing a dark grey shirt and a leather jacket, to match. Jeans, an oversized belt buckle, and cowboy boots. His hair looks like he quickly ran a comb through it and then decided to run a marathon and back before he got here, and he sticks out like a sore thumb, which… isn’t necessarily a bad thing. The corner of Genji’s mouth twitches into a playful smile and he looks at this tourist through dark, long lashes. He has his attention.

“I wouldn’t, if I were you.”

“Why, you got a boyfriend?”

“Relationships are too constricting.”

The other man takes a puff from his cigarette before putting it out, head tilted like he’s trying to figure out Genji’s story just by looking at him. “Y’came with a friend and they’re the jealous type, then.” He orders a glass of yamazaki, hopping seats so he’s elbow to elbow with Genji. … Oh.~ A bold tourist.

“Something like that.”

“Well,” the American begins, pausing to take a sip of his drink, “I ain’t exactly lookin’ for commitment, sugar. – Or a bed warmer, matter of fact.” Genji’s eyebrows raise, skeptical of the truth behind that statement, but his smile grows and his dark brown eyes widen. Truthfully, he wouldn’t be opposed to being a ~bed warmer~, were it any other night but tonight. He’s never had the opportunity with an American southerner and this one isn’t bad on the eyes. The Yakuza Prince turns in his seat to better face the other man. He has a charming smile and eyes that make a warmth spread through Genji’s chest, slow and thick like honey.

“Oh? Then what are you looking for?” It seems to take ages before Genji gets a reply, leaning forward just slightly in anticipation. Impatient, as always.

“How about someone to share a drink with?”

“Mm. I’m good at keeping people company.”

The man’s lips part, a response ready, but Genji’s tongue is quicker than his and the young prince is pressing his lips to the American’s. Soft, slim fingertips touch the man’s jaw and smooth up into long, unruly hair. Really, it’s no surprise when the stranger returns the kiss without protest. He tastes like cheap whisky and cashews and his hands are calloused and rough to the touch, but Genji likes the way they brush along his arms and settle at his sides.

Just as suddenly as the kiss had started, it ends when the other man pulls away, head lifting as if someone just called his name. Which would be fine, if there was actually someone calling his name. Genji hardly has time to think about the abrupt stop, though, because there’s a sharp tug at his shoulder from behind.

“Wh—Anija!” Looking as stern and displeased as ever is Hanzo Shimada.

“Let’s go,” Hanzo demands in their native tongue, tone sharp. His eyes dart to the ~handsome American with distaste and he shakes his head. “Enough fooling around. He is changing locations. Now is the time.”

“Took him long enou—.”

“—Sorry, darlin’, but I gotta jet. It was nice meetin’ ya,” the American interrupts, shooting a wink at Genji before hurrying down the fire escape stairwell. How rude. Hanzo’s frown only deepens. If glares could burn through skin, that stranger would feel quite the discomfort right about now.

“We’ll talk about that later. Let’s go,” the older Shimada repeats, “we have a small window to get him.”

 

“Alright, alright, I’m coming.” Reaching up on tiptoes, Genji presses a quick, chaste kiss to Hanzo’s cheek, right next to that frown that seems to be ingrained in his skin. “Calm down, ani. You’ll get wrinkles.” Hanzo, unamused, turns to lead the way.

Looks like they were able to locate Yiroshi Gui – a weapons dealer who’s been getting in the way of the Shimada clan’s business despite their warning. Time to be more convincing with their message.


End file.
